


It never leaves

by tallandlovely



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:47:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27090721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tallandlovely/pseuds/tallandlovely
Summary: Evie has a happy life now, a son a wife, a perfect farm, but her past still haunts her.
Kudos: 2





	It never leaves

His hands are so small. So clean. When I hold them in mine it’s funny how mine are so big, littered with cuts, and dirt, and his are small. Clean. 

The blanket is soft, you’re warm. Wife is such a weird word. It feels so official for something so soft and young. How’d I get this lucky, and how’d it get this good? The old life I had seems barely there when I try and think about it.

It’s there though.

In an empty stomach. Sleepless nights. Places I’m not at when I am.

You painted our nails the other day. Mine are already chipped. You painted them black, his are silver. Damon’s are red. I spent forever looking for nail polish for dogs.

He loves playing with the sheep. Especially since it’s getting colder and we don’t shave them as much. He’s gonna be too big to ride them around soon. 

It’s getting dark. The sunsets so pretty I wonder if I should wake you up to watch it with me. 

Out here the stars are bright. I love the country side. It’s like the sticky glow stars my mom put on my ceiling when I was younger. 

We got our soft epilogue huh? We got to have a family. A nice house, a perfect son.

I still see blood on your face when I close my eyes. 

Damon keeps trying to lick my face. Last year he was playing with Eli. I know he’s getting old, and I can’t help but think everyday might be his last.

That’ll be a sad day. 

You grumble, and move closer. You’re getting cold. Atleast you’re a lot shorter than I am. You’re easy to carry. 

Dinner isn’t gonna be as good as it usually is. I’m not a very good cook. I get distracted too easy and burn everything. My mom tried to teach me when I was younger. “How am I ever gonna be a good housewife if I can’t cook.” It was a running joke. I’m not really housewife material. 

I lay you on the couch. I’m sure you’ll wake up when you smell bacon. Me and Eli are gonna make pancakes. With ‘boobrees’ because “Mama loves boobrees.”

He uses his little stool to make a smiley face out of blueberries. I make a blueberries heart. Damon gets fed a lot of blueberries. 

“Hey, that’s my apron.”

“You’re awake, huh? and it doesn’t have your name on it. Plus I made it so.”

“Case made,”

You walk across the kitchen, and look over my shoulder. You pinch my side.

“Rude. I’m cooking.”

“Huh? What are you talking about?”

“Ass. You’re plates on the table.”

“A heart? Is it cause you love me?”

I roll my eyes.

The windows are closed. The heats on. Eli’s in bed. We’re gonna pick apples tomorrow, but it’s gonna rain tonight, so I have to water proof all our shoes again. I’ve been putting it off.

My favorite CD is playing. We did Rock Paper Scissors to see who got to choose the music. I always win. You always complain. 

“You love this song! Come dance with me!”

“Babe, I’m doing something.” 

“You deserve a break.”

“But-“

“Evie.”

“Fine.”

The garage is relatively empty. Most things we’d usually keep in the garage are in the shed because you love to entertain. You love to dance. You love my music.

You have to stand on your tiptoes to spin me. I laugh whenever you do. I’m not even super tall. 

The days been long. My feet hurt, but I don’t complain because the moment is so nice. It’s nice to be together without Eli, even though I love that rascal.

Before I know it I’m on the floor, punching a face I hates so much. It's muddy and cold. There’s sharp pain in my side. I can barely fight back because I keep looking. 

He’s there, a bloody pile on the floor. Beaten to pulp, then a single bullet between the eyes.

“Evie you’re home. It’s me. It’s Lana.”

I hug my feet to my chest as you cradle me. I feel like a baby. A really big baby, but it’s nice. 

It’s been eight years since I was sixteen and I watched my brother die infront of me. It was a different world. I remember being shattered, then not feeling anything. The lady killed him and her team were dead before reinforcements even came. I was a good fighter, it was a long war. And I was angry.

I almost lost you more times than I can remember. 

“How about you go to bed. I’ll finish water proofing our boots.”

“Okay.”

For a second it’s hard to breathe when you get up, but then air rushes back and I follow suit.

As I begin to walk out the door, you grab my hand. Your hands are smaller than mine. 

“I love you.”

You squeeze my hand, and I squeeze back.

“I love you too.”


End file.
